Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Bhutan and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Funkadelic to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Motions. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Main Source record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Tomorrow,
Black Moon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Make Up,
Cymande,
Q65,
Liliput,
Stiv Bators,
Hoover,
Matthew Bourne,
Au Pairs,
Aswad,
PIL,
B.T. Express,
Metal Thangz,
Echospace,
The Standells,
Judy Mowatt,
Barrington Levy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Roy Ayers,
Colin Newman,
The Neon Judgement,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tom Boy,
The Electric Prunes,
Bobby Sherman,
Max Romeo,
Bauhaus,
Slave,
Whodini,
The Index,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scan 7,
Kool Moe Dee,
Soul II Soul,
Yellowson,
Reuben Wilson,
Smog,
Eve St. Jones,
Sam Rivers,
Maleditus Sound,
Yazoo,
Neil Young,
Magazine,
The Five Americans,
Index,
Glenn Branca,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
CMW,
Quadrant,
the Slits,
Suicide,
Jacob Miller,
Excepter,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Interpol,
David Bowie,
The Skatalites,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.